Dreams of Glory
by TheHighestPie
Summary: Enjolras dreams on June 4, 1832, and finds something of a soulmate. This was the first fic I ever liked enough to post, so it's certainly not my best, but I keep it around because I'm a sentimental wimp. A cute little crossover with Antigone.


This popped into my head when I was supposed to be writing an essay for my English final and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it down. For any who aren't familiar with Greek theater, Antigone is a play by Sophocles and is about Oedipus' daughter. I thought that Antigone, a rebellious Greek princess, had some very similar qualities to everyone's favorite Apollonian insurgent. Reviews are a beautiful thing, especially since this is the first fic that I've actually liked enough to publish. Enjoy.

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June 4, 1832.

Enjolras loved his dreams. Every night, he would fall asleep, and his most beautiful desires would dance through his mind, teasing him with visions of the past and future. Some nights, he would lead a mob in the storming of the Bastille. Others, he would be orating about the evils of the monarchy and making promises of tomorrow until he convinced the electrified crowd before him to build barricades across every street. Sometimes, he sat in a room listening to, debating with, and learning from Rousseau and Robespierre. In a few treasured instances, he was the head of a new Republic, centered in Paris, that covered all of Europe.

Some nights were not so optimistic but were no less valued. He stood trial in the king's courts, accused of sedition. He was assassinated by royal spies. He stared defiantly down the barrels of a firing squad, sensing the fear in the eyes of every soldier as they all awaited the signal to fire.

Tonight was one of those darker nights. The National Guard had captured him following a failed revolt and three of them were roughly dragging him to a jail cell where he would await trial. This was a common dream; he knew he would soon find himself standing before a judge who would convict him of treason. Next would come his impassioned speech to the court, and finally he would unflinchingly face execution. However, as soon as the first guard opened the door to the small, poorly-lit cell, he knew that something was different. They threw him in, and he landed roughly on the stone floor, right at the feet of a woman.

Enjolras looked up at the female in surprise. As she bent down, arm extended, he realized that she was young. He knew from personal experience that it was foolish to judge someone's age from their looks, but he couldn't help but feel surprised that he was locked up with this girl. She was slim but not underfed, so clearly not a gamine. In addition, he had only ever seen exotic clothes like hers before at the theater. He wondered what she was doing in prison.

"Hello." Her voice was strong, surprisingly so, as she helped him to his feet. "My name is Antigone. Who are you?" Antigone. A strange name.

"I am Enjolras."

They regarded each other in silence for a minute, pondering their strange situation.

"Your name and dress mark you as a foreigner, Mademoiselle. Where do you come from?

"My home is…very far from here. And nowhere. I am a princess, of sorts, yet I am without a kingdom."

"Royalty," Enjolras sneered. This was a situation that he had always longed to experience. "Forgive me, your highness," he said with a mocking bow. "I did not realize I was in the presence of one so great."

To his surprise, the girl did not look overly offended. She merely knitted her brows together and asked, "What have you done to be put in here?"

"Nothing that would interest someone such as yourself. I would not want to offend your sensibilities."

"I am afraid that you misjudge me, sir. You see, I have very little love for the throne myself. I am in prison because I defied my uncle, the king. He broke the rules of the gods and I am to die for defending them. No matter; my death shall be a glorious one. I look forward to it with great anticipation."

Enjolras stared at her in amazement as he sat down on the narrow bed along the wall. For the first time, he truly looked at her. She was beautiful (or would be if he were one to care about such things, he reminded himself), but it was a wild, untamed sort of beauty. The torchlight that reflected in her dark eyes highlighted a fierce, burning determination that he had never detected before in a woman, or indeed, in but a few men. She reminded him of a bird of prey, perhaps a falcon. "Tell me more."

"After my father, the king, died, my brothers agreed to share the throne by exchanging possession of it every year. However, one of them refused to relinquish his power after his first term was finished. My other brother attacked the city. They killed each other in single combat, so my uncle became the king. He said that the first one, the one who refused to give up power, was a hero and buried him as such. He called the other one a traitor and decreed that his body be left for the dogs. I could not let this happen – the gods say that the dead must be buried – so I tried to give him his final rights." She had been pacing, but stopped suddenly, her dark eyes locking with Enjolras' blue ones. "I refused to back down, even when everyone I knew had betrayed me. My uncle will kill me for it. He does not understand that there are some laws that not even kings in their foolhardy pride can defy. And you?"

"I, too, am in jail for defying the crown. They would call it sedition, treason, but I fight for the people. I stand for progress, and equality, and the future. I led a revolt, but the people abandoned us. My friends were all killed; I know that I shall join them soon. Truly, I look forward to it."

Antigone smiled down at him with grim amusement. "I believe that we have much in common, you and I. You would have been a great asset to Thebes."

_Thebes!_ Enjolras wondered._ If only I could tell Feuilly. He would love to speak to her about Greece._ "And you to France."

"France," she replied in a strangely hushed voice. "Yes, France." Then, stronger, "Long live the Revolution! Wherever it may be!"

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed off the stone walls. Two guards appeared carrying swords and dressed in armor that looked like it came from antiquity. "I believe that it is time for me to go."

She bent over him and kissed his forehead in a benediction. "Continue your fight for justice, my brother. Do not be afraid."

Enjolras stood and, to his surprise, took her small hand in his own. "I am not afraid. I never have been and never will be. My only regret is that I could not meet you sooner. You are –" He blushed as his mouth struggled to form the right words, his famous powers of speech suddenly abandoning him. "I've never met a woman like you."

She smiled, again, as the guards unlocked the door. Slipping her hand from his, she walked calmly over to where her strange captors awaited. As they bound her wrists behind her back, she replied, "Don't worry. The dawn is coming. I know that we shall meet again before long." And then they marched her away and she was gone.

Enjolras awoke to morning's first beams of sunlight streaming across his face.


End file.
